


The Noble House of Dagworth-Granger

by akitsuki_99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hermione Granger-centric, M/M, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Slytherin, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuki_99/pseuds/akitsuki_99
Summary: Clever, logical, charming and well mannered, equipped with common sense, Hermione Granger takes the wizarding world by surprise and changes the course of history as we know it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 41
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This is my first story so I hope you like it! I mainly started writing this story in order to just practice my writing, but I honestly have so much love for the Harry Potter series that I really wanted to expand it and a friend of mine encouraged me to post it. So here it is!
> 
> This story is Hermione-centric and Slytherin-centric. I'll be exploring pureblood culture, traditions and society, purely made up by me and explore our favourite Slytherin characters. This will eventually be Harry/Hermione and it will be very very slow build up to that stage. 
> 
> This story has been cross-posted on FanFiction, AO3, and Wattpad under the same handle - akitsuki.99

Hermione Granger was not your average eleven year old. 

When most children indulged in fantastical dreams and the nonsensical, she lived her life amongst books, facts and knowledge. And through that, she understood the world around her: gravity keeps the world together, people didn’t like being wrong, humans were 99.9% similar to one another, fairy tales are not real. Hermione Granger was also a very polite, good child. In fact, she prided herself on her good manners, charisma and overall maturity. A poster child - the child that every parent compared their own to - parents, teachers and adults loved her, and her peers wanted to befriend her. For the eleven year old, life was good and the future was bright. 

Her understanding of the world, however, was shattered one summer morning when Professor Minerva McGonagall arrived on her doorstep, stick-in-hand, and did wondrous,  _ impossible _ things. Impossible things called Magic. Magic that didn’t have a place in her life or in her understanding of the world, and crept up on her like a nasty surprise, leaving her carefully laid plans for the future shattered and unclear. 

“The Wizarding World has been hidden from the mundane world since the establishment of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1692, and is reinforced by the International Confederation of Wizards and individual Ministries,” McGonagall explained, once the Grangers finally got it into their heads that Hermione really was a witch and this was  _ not  _ a dream and they were in dark and murky open waters, “As Hermione was born on British soil, she has been guaranteed a place at Hogwarts since the day she was born and as a muggleborn - a first generation witch - she is required,  _ by law,  _ to attend.”

“And if she doesn’t attend?” Mr. Granger interrupted.

“The Ministry will be informed of your decision, Hermione’s magic will be bound, and your memories of the wizarding world wiped. I would not recommend it as it may be detrimental to Hermione’s growth and health,” McGonagall replied patiently as Mr and Mrs Granger paled, “That said, Hogwarts is free for all British citizens and is considered one of the top magical schools internationally.”

“So we don’t really have an option, do we?” Mr Granger grumbled, “Either we send our daughter off to a boarding school in the middle of Scotland to be part of a secret society we will never be part of, or we condemn our perfectly healthy daughter to unknown conditions that may hinder the rest of her life and we’ll never know why because we won’t remember.”

“Michael!” Mrs Granger chided as McGonagall remained silent, surprised by Mr Granger’s pessimism. 

Hermione chewed on her lips as she squeezed her parents hands, “Well, there’s no point crying over spilt water. It will be fine, daddy. I’ll go to Hogwarts and it will be fine.  _ I’ll  _ be fine.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we know but you’ve always said you dream of going to Cambridge and we want you to achieve your dreams,” her mother said, “We never wanted you to be forced into anything. We always want the best for you.”

“Thank you, mama. What girl wouldn’t want to learn magic?” she gave her parents a wry smile before turning to the silent professor. “If you aren’t busy, please tell us all about the wizarding world, Professor McGonagall. I would like to understand the world I’ll be stepping into.”

That was Hermione Granger’s introduction to the Wizarding World.

* * *

A week later, the Granger Family were browsing the collection at Flourish & Blotts after being escorted around Diagon Alley for school supplies by Professor McGonagall over the course of the morning. Upon arrival at the only Wizarding shopping street in London, the Grangers found themselves transported into a different dimension. It was important to Hermione that she understood what she was getting herself into.

“Is this all very necessary? It can’t be all different from what we’re used to,” her mother had asked. 

“Mama, you heard Professor McGonagall! This wizarding society diverged from what we know more than three hundred years ago,” Hermione stated her point, “Three hundred years of history and development are different! They’re probably like a whole other country - like the Vatican!”

“Well, I suppose,” she frowned. 

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Mr Granger said as he placed an arm around his wife, “It’s the smart thing to do. If we want our Hermione to fit in and adapt to this new culture, we should probably learn more about it.”

Mrs Granger agreed to that assessment and thus ended the conversation which brought them back to the quaint bookshop that was larger on the inside. Hermione immediately set to work browsing and scanning the shelves for anything that might prove to be useful, dragging her parents along with her.

“What are you looking for?” Mr Granger asked. 

“Let’s start with a law book,” Hermione said, “I probably shouldn’t break any laws by accident.”

Her parents agreed and they went to the section on Wizarding Law packed with thick tomes. One in particular seemed very popular and centrally placed for display – ‘ _ Wizarding Laws of Great Britain’ _ by the Ministry of Magic. Reading through the foreword and front matter showed that the book had all the laws passed since the founding of the Ministry in 1707, and was self-updating. 

“We can buy that but isn’t it a bit thick?” Mrs Granger said, “You won’t be able to go through all of that before September.”

“We can leave that in the study for your reference but you should probably start with this one,” Mr Granger said, holding up a book titled, ‘ _ Laws You Should Know Before Hogwarts’ _ by Martha Scott.

“Oh, this might be important too,” Mrs Granger said as she pulled ‘ _ The Hogwarts Bylaws’ _ by Phineas Black from the shelves.

“Yeah, let's start with those,” Hermione nodded as she added them to her basket, “I wonder if they have any guides for etiquette and manners. A self-help section?”

“Maybe young adults, if they have one.” 

“I think I saw that a few rows back,” Mr Granger said as he led the way to the self-help section. There they found two more books – ‘ _ Etiquette and Manners for Young Witches’ _ by Lyla Greengrass and ‘ _ A Comprehensive Guide to Wizarding Culture and Manners for the Young Wizard’ _ by Johann Merrywether. 

“They genuinely are rather...old fashioned,” Mrs Granger said, bewildered, as she read through the etiquette book, “Medieval.”

“It’s just different from what we’re used to, Mama,” Hermione smiled weakly. 

“Let’s move on, darling,” Mr Granger said, “Where to next, sweetheart?”

“History and Politics? I think it’ll be useful to pick up a book on Goblins too, since they run the bank,” Hermione pondered, “They’re a completely different species so they’re probably very different. But we can look for those later. I think we walked past the History section earlier.”

At the History section, they found a couple more books to add to their basket. The first was titled ‘ _ International Modern History, from the 1800s to present day’ _ by Craig Hawthorne, which details major events across magical societies across the globe. Mrs Granger was the next to pick out a book titled, ‘ _ The History Behind Fairy Tales and Other Bedtime Stories _ ’ by Olga Pickett which talked about wizarding and muggle fairy tales, their origins and the magical, historical basis for the stories. Mr Granger, on the other hand, picked up ‘ _ Tracing Ancestry: Ancient Societies’ _ by Melinda Li which details ancient civilisations and how magic has shaped them.

One particular book also caught Hermione’s eye. It was a slim, leather bound book titled ‘ _ Blood, Ancestry and Magic’ _ by Gelinda Prince. There was only one copy among the shelves, and Hermione was intrigued by the premise as the foreword read: ‘ _ I have written this book with the intention of highlighting the connection between magic and blood, and the importance of family and ancestry in one’s potential for magic, in hopes to resurge the younger generation’s interest and pride in family magics. In this book, I have also suggested the potential of muggleborns as descendants of squib lines and the possibilities this creates in re-establishing lost families and re-discovering lost magics.’  _ Thus, she added it to her growing basket.

The section on politics was situated next to the history section, and Mr Granger quickly picked up ‘ _ The Wizengamot and Politics: 1880-1981’ _ by Louis Burbage and ‘ _ 100 Very Important People You Should Know’  _ by The Daily Prophet. Last but not least, in the creature relations section, Hermione picked up their final and last purchase of the day, ‘ _ The Goblins and Gringotts’ _ by Faris Flitwick.

With their new finds, the Grangers made their way through the shop to the till. Once the basket was placed on the counter, the twelve titles were immediately registered and accounted for. The cashier tapped on the basket and the books were quickly wrapped into an easily carryable package with unassuming brown paper. “That will be 20 galleons, 3 sickles and 2 knuts, thank you.”

Mrs Granger placed the money on the counter as the clerk handed the package to Hermione. All-in-all, by the Grangers opinion, money well spent. 

* * *

“I think we need to go back to Gringotts,” Hermione told her parents over dinner one night. “They provide inheritance tests there and, well, maybe we have more family! Maybe some of them are going to Hogwarts too, and you can finally discover your birth family, mama!”

“Thank you for thinking of me, sweetheart. I don’t think there’s any harm in checking,” Mrs Granger smiled, “Why don’t we go this weekend then, Michael?” 

“Sounds wonderful.”

And so, come Saturday, the Granger family once again found themselves at the Leaky Cauldron. The dinghy bar was rather empty that morning, with only two groggy patrons nursing cups of tea on either side of the room as they dealt with hangovers. The barman, Tom, was kind enough to open the portal to Diagon Alley for them, and the street was similarly empty as shops only just began to open. 

Thankfully, Gringotts provided services at all hours and the emptiness on the streets were similarly reflected indoors, cutting away hours of waiting. The goblin at the far end of the chamber looked up as they approached, eyes sharp.

“Well met, Master Goblin,” Hermione greeted, “May your gold flow and your enemies roll.”

The goblin grinned, showing his equally sharp teeth, “And may fortune and magic choose you. Business?” 

“An inheritance test, thank you.”

The goblin turned, yelling instructions in Gobbledygook, before turning back and gesturing to another goblin, “Longfang will show you to Master Bloodclaw.”

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement, bowing deeply whilst remaining eye contact, before following Longfang further into the bank. Mr and Mrs Granger followed behind, careful not to shy away from any eye contact but remained silently lurking as though guarding their daughter. Longfang led the Grangers down a long white marble hallway to large oaken doors at the very end. 

“Thank you, Longfang. May death befall your enemies,” Hermione thanked before stepping into the office.

“May your enemies' heads be your trophy.”

The office was a simple room. The desk at the center was neat and clear of papers, while the shelves lining the room were simply teeming with documents upon documents. The goblin sitting behind the desk was older and wiser than any goblin the Grangers have met so far.

“Well met, Master Bloodclaw. May your gold flow and your enemies roll,” Hermione greeted at the doorway.

“May fortune and magic choose you,” the goblin returned, “Take a seat.”

The Grangers sat down at the seats provided, with Hermione snuggled between her parents. Once they settled down in their seats, Master Bloodclaw snapped his fingers, conjuring four teacups and a pot.

“The inheritance test will require seven drops of your blood onto the parchment. Once complete, you may claim any inactive accounts. Should you be able to claim the inheritance to any lost noble house, ancient and noble house, or most ancient and noble house, you shall be able to immediately claim heirship and access minor vaults, and claim headship upon your majority and gain full access,” Bloodclaw explained, “The inheritance test will cost 10 galleons. Gringotts will keep a copy of the test while you may keep the original. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Hermione replied as Mrs Granger pulled out 10 galleons from her purse and placed it on the table.

Master Bloodclaw smiled ferociously as he pulled out a charmed piece of parchment and an intricate dagger, “Your blood.”

Hermione picked up the dagger and nicked her finger without hesitation, feeling her mother stiffen and flinch beside her, as blood welled up from the cut and dripped onto the parchment. Once the seventh drop hit, the parchment glowed and the cut knitted itself back together. The light faded just as quickly, leaving behind the following:

_ Hermione Jean Granger _

_ Age: 11 _

_ Father: Michael Liam Granger  _

_ Paternal Grandmother: Madeline Poppy Granger nee Beauchamp  _

_ Paternal Grandfather: William James Granger  _

_ Mother: Helen Granger nee Millford (adopted), Yehua Young (at birth)  _

_ Maternal Grandmother (adopted): Mary Jane Millford _

_ Maternal Grandmother: Wailian Wang  _

_ Maternal Grandfather (adopted): Henry Lee Millford _

_ Maternal Grandfather: Yinghong Young  _

_ The Noble House of Dagworth-Granger (inactive) _

_ 5 vaults, 2 properties. Claimable by heir ring _

_ The Ancient and Noble House of Ravenclaw (inactive) _

_ 2 vaults, 1 property. Claimable upon majority. _

_ The Heavenly Young Clan (active) _

_ No claimable vaults or properties.  _

“Mama, look!” Hermione exclaimed as she thrusted the parchment towards her mother, watching as she was overcome with emotions, “Master Bloodclaw, what can you tell us about the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger and the Heavenly Young Clan?”

“The last member of the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger was Harold Dagworth-Granger, the son of the famous potioneer, Hector Dagworth-Granger, dating back to 1896. The Noble House of Dagworth-Granger is a minor family that can be traced back to the late 1200s, respected for its prowess in potioneering and research, known for their neutral stance. The family motto is, ‘ _ Knowing the world is knowing thyself’ _ ,” Master Bloodclaw answered, “The Heavenly Young Clan is famous for growing quality wand-wood in the East and their current Clan Head is a man named Yeqiu Young. Unfortunately, the Heavenly Young Clan is part of the Southern Chinese Ministry, and as such, much is unknown. You can contact them yourselves if you wish to know more.”

Hermione nodded in understanding as her mother absorbed this new information.

“Now, I will retrieve the heir rings so you may claim your heirship.”

The goblin left the room and Helen slumped into her seat, breath quickening as the information finally settled. Mr Granger was immediately at his wife’s side, holding her hand with one and stroking her back with the other. Hermione climbed onto her mother’s lap, giving her a tight hug around the torso. 

“I never thought I’d know their names,” Mrs Granger finally said once she had calmed, “I never thought  _ I _ had a name before Helen Millford.”

“We know, love,” Mr Granger murmured into her ear, “What’s on your mind?”

“Lord. Shocked? Disoriented? Excited. Angry. Sad. Happy I finally know my birth parents name. Do they know I’m alive?” she asked, “S-should we contact them? Should I?”

“Why don’t we take this one-step at a time? There’s no need to rush, love,” Mr Granger said, “We can contact them when you’re ready to contact them.”

“Thank you, dear,” she says softly, placing a kiss on the back of his hand. 

“I’ll try to find out more when I go to Hogwarts, Mama,” Hermione added, “So you’ll know more beforehand if you decide to contact them.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, letting go of her husband’s hand to embrace her daughter tighter, “But don’t let that affect your studies or your friendships. There are more important things in your life, like figuring out your heirship.”

Just as she said that, Bloodclaw returned with a wooden box between his hands and the Grangers promptly disentangled themselves to return to their respective seats. Once seated, Bloodclaw opened the box, revealing a simple bronze band, and upon closer inspection, Hermione noticed the family motto engraved on the inside of the band. “Heir rings not only legitimise your position as heir, but provide the heir with protection by warning you against mind or behavioural-altering substances, and can protect the wearer from minor curses and accidents. You may place the ring on any finger of your choosing and the ring will glow once, and resize itself to fit should it recognise you as the heir. If you are not recognised, the ring will simply stay the same.”

Hermione slipped the band down her left pointer finger. Like the master goblin said, the ring glowed once and resized itself to fit comfortably. She felt an overwhelming sense of love and warmth and acceptance in that moment, and Hermione cried, shocking her parents.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Bloodclaw nodded, “Congratulations, Heiress Dagworth-Granger. This will be recorded in both Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic.”

“Thank you, Master Bloodclaw.”

“What does it mean for our daughter to be an heiress, Master Bloodclaw?” Mr Granger asked. 

“To be recognised as an heiress to a Noble House, to Wizards, is a social symbol, Mr. Granger. Other than the vaults, the wealth, knowledge and magic she may inherit, the position of heiress guarantees certain protections and privileges with the Ministry. As you do not have a head of house, Heiress Dagworth-Granger may also choose her magical guardian which is currently held by Hogwarts. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, I will take you to Account Manager Sharptooth to go over your accounts.”

The Grangers looked at one another, communicating silently, before Hermione answered in representation, “Please, show us to Account Manager Sharptooth.”

* * *

  
  


“The Noble House of Dagworth-Granger has five vaults, only three of which you may access at this moment. The first vault is a trust vault, which replenishes yearly to a set limit of 1,000 galleons per annum. The second vault contains the Dagworth-Granger collection of books, materials, journals, as well as the moving portraits. The third vault may only be accessed by the heir and head of house, documenting the Dagworth-Granger family magics. You may access the remaining two vaults, including the main vault and the jewelry vault upon claiming headship,” Sharptooth said, “The two properties - the family house in Cambridgeshire and the vacation home in Naples, Italy - have been held in stasis since the last member of the house passed. You may visit these properties at any time. Sign at the bottom of the page to acknowledge this.”

Hermione signed with the blood quill.

“The Dagworth-Granger vaults have a current balance of 1,124,590 galleons, 6 sickles and 12 knuts, and generates an average total of 4,819 galleons, 4 sickles and 20 knuts per annum through various investments and patents,” Sharptooth continued, “Gringotts currently charges 20 galleons per month per vault for the upkeep and security, as well as 1,000 galleons in overseeing and managing the accounts and investments. Any questions?”

“How can I access the family properties?”

“Gringotts can provide you with a one-time portkey for 10 galleons or a permanent portkey for 100 galleons. The Gringotts portkey will only transport you near the property due to the wards, which will only accept members of the bloodline. I will advise you to check your vaults for portkeys first before requesting one from Gringotts. If there are no more questions, I will take you to your vaults.”

* * *

Sharptooth led them down the winding underground paths, lit by floating golden lights, towards some tracks and mine carts. Sharptooth directed them towards a cart, “We will first go to vault 320, the trust vault, followed by vaults 112 and 113.”

The cart went shooting down along the tracks while Hermione and her parents held on for dear life, and soon they were at vault 320. They climbed out of the cart and Sharptooth opened the vault with a small golden key, revealing piles of golden galleons. On top of the pile was a small velvet pouch embroidered with a small crest, Sharptooth went ahead and took it from the pile, handing it to Hermione. The moment her fingers touched the pouch, it glowed, leaving behind her name embroidered beneath the crest. 

“This pouch is linked to the trust account,” he explained, “Simply ask for how much you wish to withdraw and it will appear within the pouch. It is charmed and warded by goblin magics to only allow access to a Dagworth-Granger. We will now move on to vaults 112 and 113.”

They returned to the cart and sped further into the depths below Gringotts. Other carts rushed by on different tracks, the sound of metal against stone echoed in her ears, and the damp smell of the earth rose and engulfed her. They were then thrown under a waterfall briefly before arriving at the vaults. Sharptooth dried them with a wave of his hand, “The Thief's Downfall negates any wizarding enchantments placed on a person to ensure there are no thieves. Only a magical Dagworth-Granger can enter vaults 112 and 113. Vault 112 contains the portraits and books, while vault 113 are the heir materials.”   
  


Mr and Mrs Granger remained in the cart as Hermione approached vault 112 first. She touched the door lightly and it opened with little resistance. She turned to look back at her parents who were watching her, “I’ll be back.”

* * *

The moment she stepped in, golden and blue lights flickered into existence, illuminating shelves upon shelves of books, scattered trunks, and walls lined with moving portraits which were blinking awake. The vault was much larger than the trust vault and Hermione could not help but gasp as she took it all in. 

“Oh, look Vitruvius, a child!”

“Calm down, Julia. That’s the new heir.”

“Hello,” Hermione greeted them politely, “I’m Hermione.”

“Tell us, child, what year is it?” Vitruvius said. 

“It’s 1991, sir.”

“1991! 1991? We last heard from Harold in 1896! Lord, what’s been going on out there?”

“To my knowledge, Lord Harold died without any heirs in 1896,” Hermione explained, “I’m a muggle-born. I did an inheritance test at Gringotts this morning and found that I am a descendant of the Dagworth-Grangers, and the heir ring claimed me.”

The portraits broke out in murmurs and Hermione looked around nervously.

“Well, you’re definitely a Dagworth-Granger! Look at that hair!” Julia exclaimed from her portrait, followed by murmurs of agreements. 

“I told you! Muggleborns  _ are  _ descended from squib lines!” another portrait exclaimed.

“Welcome to the family, child,” one particularly large portrait said, “I am Hadrian Dagworth-Granger, the founder of this family around 800 years ago. I, too, am a muggleborn.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Please feel free to peruse our archives and ask any of us portraits any question you wish. We are here to provide you with our knowledge. The books here are usually placed in storage as, alas, the library in the family home is limited in space and are rather old, but do take a copy of the family grimoire before you leave,” Hadrian spoke old and wisely from his portrait, “As you may know, our family prides ourselves on knowledge. We seek to know and understand the world around us, but we believe there is nothing as important as knowing yourself. The more we know ourselves, our flaws, our strengths, our beliefs, our worth, and the more we accept and love ourselves, only then can we develop the empathy and skills and understanding needed to truly know the world around us. That is what we strive for, though few of us can claim we have reached that point.”

“The room next door holds over 800 years of business and transaction documentation between the House of Dagworth-Granger and other houses or businesses. There you will also find a book whereby heir duties have been recorded as well as expectations and duties for the future head of house.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Hermione smiled, “I wanted to ask how I could go visit the family manor.”

“Your heir ring doubles as a portkey and lock. Simply say our house motto followed by the name and location of our home – The Dagworth Family Manor, Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire.”

Hermione thanked him again before going to look for the family grimoire. She found them by the door – three copies, leatherbound. There were no titles except for the family crest - blue and silver, composed of an owl at the top, a dragon on the left, and a lion on the right flanking the coat of arms which depicted a book and quill. She picked it up and flicked through it. 

“Child, you need to do something about that  _ hair _ ,” a portrait said from behind, startling her, “You see that book next to the grimoires? Take it with you too. It’ll teach you how to take care of your hair as befitting a witch of the Dagworth-Grangers.”

“Sorry?” Hermione said, bewildered.

“Your  _ hair _ ! Hair is important to witches – it is linked to your  _ magical core _ . The healthier and the more you take care of your hair, the healthier and better your core,” the portrait explained, “That is why witches wear their hair up once they leave the safety of their homes. You don’t want strangers to touch your magic, or  _ worse _ , drain it from you. Take the book and read it, child.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I will.”

The lady in the portrait nodded before returning to her conversation with the portrait next to her in a language Hermione didn’t understand. She picked up the other book – the scripted text on the inside of the cover saying ‘ _ For the daughters of Dagworth-Granger _ ’ – and left the vault. 

* * *

Mr and Mrs Granger greeted her as she came out, and Hermione excitedly showed them the grimoire. They frowned at the pages as nothing showed and Hermione swore that there were texts the last time she checked and skimmed through the pages. 

“Family magics,” Sharptooth explained, “It can sense that people not from the family or are muggles, are reading the family grimoire and thus turns the text inside invisible. It alerts the reader so they know that someone not of the family is trying to read and may be trying to steal the family magics. You will have to read them alone.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, disappointed, “I suppose I’ll get the heir books now and then we can head off.”

She pushed the vault doors of vault 113 open, revealing a small table with a single book and cabinets lining the walls and beyond. She quickly grabbed it and turned back around, making her way back to the cart. 

* * *

Hermione and the Grangers went back to Diagon Alley a few more times after their trip to get more supplied, particularly for Hermione’s new hair care routine which was much more tedious and time consuming than ever. It took up at least an hour each day but Hermione followed it religiously now in order to maintain good core health and instead of the wild, bushy mane that she was once made fun of, her hair now fell in soft, silky ringlets which she always held back with a specialised ribbon in a Dagworth-Granger styled ponytail. 

On one such outing at Diagon Alley, Mr and Mrs Granger left Hermione at Flourish & Blotts while they headed to a cafe in muggle london to discuss insurance with their insurer. As she browsed through their selection for nth time, she saw a boy perhaps her age looking around for books with a list in his hand. He was wearing big, baggy muggle clothes and he was alone, so she decided to look for some hidden courage and approached him. 

“Hi, can I help you find your books?”

Her voice startled the boy. Emerald green eyes met honey gold, and the boy nodded hesitantly, “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Hermione beamed and then babbled on, “I found out I was a witch recently so I’ve been spending a lot of time here trying to learn more. I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger.”

“I’m Harry,” he smiled softly, “I found out I’m a wizard recently too.”

“You’re a muggleborn, too? I hope we can be friends Harry!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I hope this story turns out as good as y'all are expecting!

The summer ended as September rolled around. At 10AM, Hermione and her parents were loading her items into the boot of the car outside their townhouse at South Kensington. Her magical trunk was more than spacious enough for her school clothes and casual clothes, her stationary and school supplies, and of course, her books. Mr. Granger was quite thankful for the feather-light charms as the trunk would likely crush his car, let alone his hands and muscles. 

They climbed onto the car and Mr Granger headed for Kings Cross. The streets were less packed now that rush-hour was over, though typical London traffic remained. They passed by Hyde Park Corner before travelling up Edgware Road and then turning on to Marylebone Road, passing Regent’s Park, Euston, and the old red brick building of St. Pancras. Mr Granger drove around Kings Cross a while before they found a parking space, and they all climbed out, walking into the station at exactly 10:45AM. 

Standing between Platform 9 and 10, Hermione hugged her parents tightly. “Bye, mama. Bye, daddy. I’m going to miss you.”

“We’re going to miss you too, sweetheart,” Mrs Granger sobbed. “Oh, I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this until you went to university, or at least until sixth form.”

“You be good, yeah?” Mr Granger said from behind them, eyes slightly wet though he would deny this.

“I’ll write to you every day. I promise,” Hermione sniffled, “I’ll be back for Christmas anyway. That’s only three months and a bit away.”

“Go on then,” Mrs Granger said, “You don’t want to miss your train.”

Hermione nodded and turned around to push her trunk between platforms 9 and 10, looking back to wave at her parents as she went through the brick wall. There was darkness and then she saw the light brown bricks and heard the call of a steam train. In front of her was the magnificently red Hogwarts Express behind an ocean of people crowding on the platform. 

She quickly found an entrance to the train and walked down the aisle, peeking into the different compartments subtly. It took a while, but finally she saw a familiar face in one of the compartments. Hermione pushed the door open and grinned. 

“Harry!”

“Hi, Hermione,” he smiled back. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” 

“Please,” he gestured to the seat in front of him as the door closed behind her, “How was the rest of your summer?”

“I holed up in my room and read the days away but I moved to the garden when the weather was good. How was yours?”

“It was alright. I’ve been really excited to go to Hogwarts. Can hardly believe I’m here to be honest.”

“That’s fair. I hardly believe it either. I think I’m going to wake up at any moment and everyone will tell me it’s all a dream. Did you get a chance to read the books?”

“Not yet, but thanks,” he said, “For helping me that day.”

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me, Harry. That was entirely selfish – I made a friend in the process!”

Harry’s smile lit up his face. He went on to tell her about his owl, Hedwig, and the half-giant man that had come to collect him and their trip to London. Hermione was fascinated by the flying motorcycle and asked him how it felt to be up in the clouds above, and he eagerly told her. Hermione gave all the right responses at the right moments, like she was extremely happy and excited _for_ him, and Harry truly felt heard and understood by this muggleborn girl. His first friend. 

The train started and houses started to fly by as they moved away from London. Hermione felt a jolt of excitement and looked at Harry. He looked equally as giddy and the both of them broke into fits of giggles. 

The door of the compartment slid open again and revealed a tall lanky red-headed boy with a dark smudge on his nose, “Mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shook their heads, and the boy sat down next to Harry. He stared at Harry before quickly looking away, and gave Hermione an awkward strained smile. 

“Hey Ron.” Two boys popped their head in. They were identical, red-headed and likely Ron’s brother. 

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train,” they said, “Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” Ron mumbled. 

“Harry. My Lady,” they addressed, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasely. And this is our brother, Ron.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione smiled at them. 

“Of course, m’lady,” they said in unison, “See you later then.”

“Bye.” The compartment door slid shut behind them as they left and Ron’s eyes immediately darted back to Harry and his forehead. 

“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out. 

Harry squirmed awkwardly in his seat for a brief second before Hermione cut in. “Does it even matter? He’s Harry. My friend, Harry. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Ron mumbled, “I only thought it was one of Fred and George’s jokes.”

“I don’t get all the fuss.”

“You’re muggleborn, aren’t you?”

“Is that a problem?” Hermione asked sharply.

“No, but it goes to show how you don’t know the importance of the end of You-Know-Who,” he said, “Everyone grew up with the stories about You-Know-Who and Harry Potter.”

“Well, I didn’t and I don’t, but it’s rather rude to bring up the death of one’s parents in front of them and make it sound _great_ , don’t you think?” Hermione asked angrily and watched as Ron turned red, before she mellowed down and turned to Harry sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was very wrong.”

“It’s alright, Hermione.”

“Yeah, sorry mate.”

“Um–” Harry hesitated in the awkward energy, “So are all your family wizards?”

“Er- Yes, I think so,” Ron said, “I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

“You must know loads of magic already,” Hermione said.

“What are muggles like?”

“My aunt and uncle and cousin are horrible,” Harry said gloomily, “Not all muggles are like that though.”

“My uncles and cousins are fairly horrible too,” Hermione nodded sympathetically, “My parents are dentists so they’re usually very busy, but they’re great.”

“Wish I had three wizard brothers.”

“Five,” said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head boy and Charlie was quidditch captain. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new either with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

“But it must be nice to have brothers to help,” Hermione smiled.

“I suppose so,” Ron said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep, “His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made prefect, but they couldn’t aff– I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Ron’s ears turned pink. He seemed to think he said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window. Hermione didn’t think that there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl, and told Ron so and how she doesn’t even have a pet. Harry in turn told Ron about having to wear Dudley’s old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. Hermione frowned, but this seemed to cheer Ron up. 

“...until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort.”

Hermione leapt from her seat to hug Harry, her eyes were wet and she was trying very hard not to cry, as Ron gasped behind her. 

“What?” Harry asked. He was bewildered by these reactions but he returned Hermione’s hug. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Harry!”

“You said You-Know-Who’s name!” said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed.

“ _That’s_ what you got from what he said!?” Hermione asked as she pulled away from the hug and sat beside Harry. She didn’t notice the way she held onto his hand, nor the way he squeezed it in comfort, “It’s just a name! What kind of name is Voldemort anyway?”

Harry shrugged, “I think it’s French.”

“I can’t believe you said his name,” Ron mumbled. 

There was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the cart, dears?”

Harry and Hermione leapt to their feet, as Ron’s ears turned pink and muttered about sandwiches. They went out into the corridor and Hermione perused the selection as Harry asked about Mars Bars. 

“Why don’t we have some of everything, Harry?” Hermione asked, “So we can try everything and see what we like.”

Harry smiled and agreed. The woman handed them their purchase and Hermione paid the woman with 1 golden galleon, 5 silver sickles and 5 bronze knuts. 

“I can pay,” Harry protested. 

“You can pay me back later, if you want.” Hermione smiled, “Let’s just bring these back first.”

Hermione held the door open for Harry, and Ron stared as they brought it all back and tipped it all onto an empty seat. 

“Hungry, are you?”

“Starving,” Harry said and Hermione frowned, but didn’t comment. He reached for a Pumpkin Pasty but Hermione handed him a Shepherd’s pie.

“It’ll taste awful cold if we leave it for last,” Hermione said, “and we can keep the sweets with us at Hogwarts.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

Ron took out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Swap you for one of these?” Harry offered, “Is that alright, Hermione? How much do I owe you anyway?”

“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” said Ron. 

“Go on and take it, Ron,” Hermione said, “We got more than enough for the three of us. Food is always better when you get to share with friends. And it’s fine, Harry. You can pay next time.”

Harry tried to protest but Hermione was firm in her decision. So he relented and told Ron to have a pasty. As they feasted on food from the trolly, the sandwiches laid forgotten on the side and Hermione smiled brilliantly. She had been worried and nervous that she wouldn’t be able to make any friends, but here they were. 

“What are these?” Harry asked, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs.

“They’re not really Frogs, are they?” Hermione asked, wide eyed. 

“No,” said Ron, “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa.”

“What?” Harry and Hermione asked. 

“Oh, of course you wouldn’t know – Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect – famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

“Agrippa was a wizard? The Roman consul?” Hermione asked as Harry went ahead to open a Chocolate Frog and pick up the card. 

“No, Cornelius Agrippa.”

“So this is Dumbledore!”

“Don’t tell me you’d never heard of Dumbledore!” said Ron, “Can I have a frog? Thanks –”

Hermione leaned over to Harry to look at the card. The man wore half-moon glasses, had a long crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, mustache and beard. Harry turned the card over and read:

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling. 

Harry turned the card back over, and to their surprise, Dumbledore’s face had disappeared. “He’s gone!”

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” said Ron, “He’ll be back. I’ve got Morgana again and I’ve got six of her...do you want it? You can start collecting.”

“Can I, Harry?”

“Help yourself,” Harry nodded and Hermione took the card from Ron. Ron also took that as permission to open another Chocolate Frog. 

“She’s beautiful,” Hermione commented as she looked down on the image of Morgana, “But in the muggle world, people just stay in photos.”

“Do they? What, they don’t move at all?” Ron asked, shocked, “Weird.”

Harry and Hermione opened the Chocolate Frogs together, looking at each famous witch and wizard cards one by one. When they came upon famous people that also existed in the muggle world, Hermione would tell Harry and tell him a bit about them. Eventually, Harry reached for Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. 

“You want to be careful with those,” Ron warned them, “When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour – you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate, peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach, liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavoured one once.”

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

“Bleaaaargh – see? Sprouts.”

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Hermione, on the other hand, got apple, cheese, wasabi – which caused her to cry much to the boys surprise and panic – chocolate, liver, and mustard.

The rolling fields were long gone, replaced by woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills. The compartment door opened, revealing a tearful round-faced boy. “Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?”

When they shook their heads, he wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry encouraged. 

“Have you asked the prefects?” Hermione suggested, “I’m sure they’ll be able to find him.”

“Yes, thank you,” he said miserably, “Well, if you see him…”

He left. 

“I don’t know why he’s so bothered,”said Ron, “If I brought a toad, I’d lose it as quickly as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.”

The rat was still snoozing on his lap. 

“He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” said Ron, “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…”

Ron rummaged around his trunk and pulled out a very battered looking wand. It was chipped in some places and something glinted white at the end. Hermione had to refrain from flinching. 

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat, and pointed his wand at the rat, “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep. 

“...I don’t think that’s a spell,” Hermione said awkwardly. 

“Stupid spell. George gave it to me – bet he knew it was a dud,” Ron huffed, throwing his wand back into his trunk.

They smiled sympathetically at him, and Hermione hesitantly said, “Well, I don’t know any colour changing spells but I’ve tried the repairing spell. Maybe I can fix your glasses, Harry?”

“Can you?” Harry said, hopeful.

“I can try,” Hermione chirped.

Harry handed his glasses to her. Hermione flicked her right hand, and her wand appeared in her hand. _“Reparo._ ”

His glasses put itself back together and Hermione beamed as she handed the pair of glasses back to the boy. Ron gaped, “Where’d you learn that?”

“I read our course books,” Hermione said, “I like books a lot and I didn’t have much to do over the summer.”

“You’ll probably get into Ravenclaw then,” Ron commented.

“Ravenclaw isn’t bad, I suppose,” Hermione contemplated, “I think Hufflepuff or Slytherin would be good too. I don’t think I’m brave enough for Gryffindor.”

“Slytherin?!” Ron exclaimed, “Only bad people and purebloods and people with blood prejudice go into Slytherin.”

“That’s the house Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who was in?” Harry asked curiously. 

“Yeah,” said Ron, “I’d be caught dead being friends with a _Slytherin_.”

“Not _all_ Slytherins are bad people,” Hermione argued, “Merlin was in Slytherin and he was a great wizard, and definitely _not_ evil.”

“How would you know?” Ron challenged.

“It’s in _Hogwarts, a history_ ,” Hermione told him, “There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious and cunning. It just means I want to be able to achieve something and do something with my life, and snakes are cool.”

“But they’re _evil_ ,” Ron reiterated. 

“Oh, don’t be so prejudiced,” Hermione huffed, “All the houses are equally nice.”

“What house are your brothers in?” Harry cut in before they could keep arguing. 

“Gryffindor,” Ron said. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. “Mum and Dad were in it too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not.”

Hermione, recognising Harry’s effort to stop them from descending into another argument, followed up by asking, “What do your brothers do now that they’ve left Hogwarts?”

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” Ron said, “Did you guys hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, but I suppose you don’t get that with Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high security vault.”

They stared. “Really? What happened to them?”

“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what's odd. ‘Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who is behind it.”

They turned this news round their heads silently. Hermione felt a prickle of worry and astonishment. Gringotts was one of the safest places in the world and the Goblins are a fierce and proud race. The fact that something like this happened was a huge shock and Hermione wondered how the Goblins were faring. 

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked. 

Harry and Hermione shared a look. “Er– I don’t know any.”

“What!” Ron looked dumbfounded, “Oh, you wait, it’s the best game in the world –” And then he was off explaining all about the four balls and the positions of all the players, describing the famous games he’d been to with his brothers and the broomstick he’d like to get if he had the money. Hermione soon found herself bored with the Quidditch narrative, but was content to just listen as Ron took Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open again. 

Standing at the door were three boys. The boy in the middle had pale blonde hair, and he was flanked by two much larger boys. He was looking at Harry with great interest.

“Is it true?” he said, “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Who’s asking?” Hermione asked before Harry could respond, “Rather rude of you, when you haven’t even introduced yourselves.” 

The boy said carelessly, “This is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

“Ah, well met Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle,” Hermione greeted them politely before turning to Malfoy with a sniff, “I suppose you’re the Malfoy heir. Did your mother teach you your manners? They’re quite...common...aren’t they?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged a slight pink as Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. “And you are?”

“Granger. Hermione Granger.”

“Never heard of you,” he sniffed. 

“I don’t associate with the rude and ill-mannered,” Hermione quipped back.

Ron snickered loudly now, and Draco turned to him sharply. “No, you associate with worse. No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.”

“You’ve been exceedingly _rude_ , Heir Malfoy,” Hermione said angrily, “I understand that the Malfoys and Weasleys have a blood feud but do not drag it in here. Either you behave yourself as the heir of an Ancient and Noble House, or you _leave_.” 

Draco looked shocked but quickly schooled his features. His eyes darted to her hair – tied back traditionally – and the simple finesse of her clothing. He bowed and reached for her hand, which she assented to, as he said, “Please accept my sincerest apologies, my lady. May we have the chance to speak privately soon.”

“Accepted, Heir Malfoy,” Hermione smiled softly, “Thank you.”

He nodded and left the compartment, taking Crabbe and Goyle with him. Hermione turned back to look at the two boys: Ron who was gaping at her and Harry who looked confused at best. Ron sputtered, his face turning as red as his hair, “What was that?”

Hermione shook her head, “You grew up in the Wizarding World. Surely you know the etiquette and manners and traditions?”

“I don’t believe in pureblood nonsense,” Ron said. 

“Etiquette and manners have nothing to do with blood prejudice or pureblood dogma,” Hermione sighed, “It’s like you’re looking for a fight.”

“Can you please explain?” Harry asked. 

“Before coming to Hogwarts, I studied a bit of wizarding culture,” Hermione explained to him, “Like what’s socially acceptable. The right manners. How to address people. That kind of stuff, since the wizarding world is separate from the muggle world. What we think is okay and normal might be considered rude or scandalous to them. It’s like, say, travelling to India or China and acting like you would at home. We might not think it’s rude, but we might have already insulted and disrespected the local culture six times in a minute.”

Harry nodded in understanding. 

“It’s just a load of pureblood bull, if you ask me,” Ron huffed, “My parents never tried to teach us all this...pureblood prejudice.”

“It’s called being respectful,” Hermione said sharply at the boy, who looked away, “Say, for example, my hair. I usually leave it down in the muggle world but Wizarding society and culture dictates that hair should be tied back for girls.”

Harry looked confused. “Isn’t that...backwards? You should be allowed to do your hair in any way you want.”

“I thought so too,” Hermione beamed at the boy who smiled back hesitantly, “but I also found out that for girls, our hair is sort of like an extension of our magic. So other people touching my hair would be considered very intimate since you can feel my magic. That, and it’s to prevent anyone from stealing genetic material. People can impersonate you with your hair.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying to process this, “I think I get it now. Can you tell me more, Hermione?”

“Sure,” Hermione smiled but Ron groaned and she turned to him sharply, “If you don’t want to listen in, why don’t you get changed into your robes first.”

Ron didn’t argue, though he grumbled the whole time, as he pulled out some robes from his trunk and left the compartment. Hermione stared after him and said, “He seems like a really nice person but every time he says we’re muggles, or that we wouldn’t know something because we grew up with muggles, just makes me feel so stupid.”

“You’re far from stupid, Hermione,” Harry said, “You know all this wizarding stuff that I didn’t even think existed.”

“Thank you, Harry. I just like to read,” she smiled shyly, “Oh right, anyway, I can lend you a book on Wizarding Culture.” She pulled down her trunk and rummaged through her neatly stacked piles of books. “But basically, the Wizarding world is kind of backwards to us but there are very good reasons as to why. For example, the way they pride family names. There are different types of family, and some of them are like nobility. Each family, depending on how long they’ve been established also have a family grimoire which are spells that only that family knows of. It’s why the continuation of family lines is so important to them, and why many marry quite young. There’s also some stuff regarding family magics that isn’t very well explained, but it’s related to family grimoires.”

She pulled out the books she was looking for – ‘ _A Comprehensive Guide to Wizarding Culture and Manners for the Young Wizard’_ by Johann Merrywether – and handed it to the boy, who received it gratefully. 

“That, and magic helps us identify suitable and compatible partners much easier. Soul mates exist, but they’re very rare so most just end up with the one they’re most compatible with when they’re at school. That said, it is expected for men to express their intention first to start a courtship so you might want to read up on some of those etiquettes. You wouldn’t want to accidentally proposition a witch or something when you just mean to be nice.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said, “I’ll read it soon and return it to you.”

“It’s alright. Take your time,” she smiled, “I have near perfect memory so I usually remember everything I’ve read or seen.”

“That must be useful.”

“It can be,” she shrugged, "I can recite Postman Pat by heart to you if you want, starting with episode 1,” she cleared her throat, “ ‘ _Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black and white cat. Early in the morning, just as day is dawning_ . _He picks up all the post bags in his van_.’”

Harry laughed when Hermione’s voice cracked awfully during her terrible performance.

“Well, no one said my voice could match.”

“Let’s go change into our robes,” Harry said, still suppressing his giggles.

* * *

“We’ll be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time,” a voice announced, “Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way to the doors and out to a tiny dark platform. Hermione shivered slightly in the cold of the night, and then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”

The giant man towered over them and Hermione stared, wide eyed, as the man beamed down at them. _So this was Hagrid_ , she thought to herself, _I wonder how big full-blooded giants are._ ’

“C’mon, follow me – any more firs’ years? Mind yer step now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees. The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“Ooooh.”

“No more’n four to boat,” Hagrid called over their heads, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Hermione and Ron joined a boat followed by Neville. Harry had sat down first and Ron had, not so subtly, shoved Hermione aside to sit next to him so Hermione settled contentedly by Neville. Harry had seen this behaviour and frowned, though he didn’t comment since Hermione met his eye and smiled. 

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, “Right then – FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Neville, is it?” Hermione asked, “Did you find your toad?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Thank you for your help. I asked the prefects and they managed to summon Trevor back to me.”

“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as they approached the cliffs, and they all bent their heads as the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy and hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel which seemed to take them under the castle, to an underground harbour. 

They clambered out of the boats onto rocks and pebbles, then up the passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto the smooth damp grass in the shadow of the castle. They walked up the flight of stone steps up to the large Oak front doors.

“Everyone here?”

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 15 pages on GoogleDocs >_< So thank you so much for taking the time to read and I'm very sorry for any mistakes. I haven't been able to go back to proofread.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and I'll see you tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I was going to edit this chapter before posting today but I ended up making scones and butter cookies so apologies in advance for any spelling or grammar errors.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. Hermione recognised her immediately as the stern faced Professor McGonagall and waved discreetly, and rather shyly, at the woman. Professor McGonagall gave her a brief smile when her eyes lingered on her. 

  
“The firs' years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was made up of large stone walls that were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. They could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. 

“I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly,” Professor McGonagall said. 

Harry swallowed nervously beside Hermione, and as soon as the professor left, Hermione pulled Harry’s nervous hand down. “It looks fine. Don’t worry.”

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” Harry asked.

“Some sort of test, I reckon. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking,” Ron said. 

“I doubt it’s going to be a test,” Hermione reassured them, “We barely know anything. If it was a test of all things, most people would never make it  _ into _ Hogwarts, let alone graduate.”

They seemed to relax at that, and even the surrounding First Years looked less nervous. Hermione reached out to Harry and squeezed his hand in comfort. She whispered softly to him, “Don’t worry, Harry. Just be yourself. I’m sure it’ll be fine, wherever you go, and I promise to always be your friend.”

“Thanks Hermione,” he gave her a weak smile, “I’ll always be your friend too.”

Then something happened that made them jump about a foot in the air –several people behind him screamed.

“What the –?”

Hermione gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –”

“My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony's about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. “Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

Hermione got in line in front of Harry as McGonagall led them out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. The Hall, lit by thousands and thousands of candles, floating mid-air over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. Tables were laid with golden plates and goblets, and at the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. McGonagall led them towards the front and Hermione turned back to whisper to Harry, “The ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside.”

They stood nervously at the front, all eyes on them, as McGonagall brought out a stool and an old tattered hat. For a few seconds there was complete silence, then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide and then the hat started  _ singing _ .

“ _ Oh you may not think I’m pretty, _

_ But don’t judge on what you see. _

_ I’ll eat myself if you can find,  _

_ A smarter hat than me.” _

Bewildered, Hermione’s jaw was hanging but now that the words were registering, she found it hard to stifle a giggle. Harry turned to look at her and grinned. All nervousness left their system. There was no test – just a hat.

“ _ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall. _

_ For I’m the Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all.” _

_ “There’s nothing hidden in your head, _

_ The Sorting Hat can’t see. _

_ So try me on and I will tell you,  _

_ Where you ought to be.” _

Hermione could feel the giddiness creeping in as the hat continued singing. This was magic. Real magic. And it was more wonderful than she could imagine. She squeezed Harry’s hand beside her excitedly, exchanging smiles frequently. “I know,” he whispered at her, eyes twinkling. 

“ _ You might belong in Gryffindor,  _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve and chivalry, _

_ Set Gryffindors apart;” _

“ _ You might belong in Hufflepuff,  _

_ Where they are just and loyal. _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, _

_ And unafraid of toil;” _

_ “Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  _

_ If you’ve a ready mind. _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind;” _

_ “Or perhaps in Slytherin, _

_ You’ll make your real friends. _

_ Those cunning folk use any means,  _

_ To achieve their end.” _

_ “So put me on! Don’t be afraid! _

_ And don’t get in a flap! _

_ You’re in safe hands, _

_ For I’m a Thinking Cap!” _

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and became silent again. Harry leaned over at Hermione, and whispered, “I bet you’re a Ravenclaw.”

“There are more important things than books and cleverness,” she whispered back. 

“So we’ve got to try on a hat!” Ron whispered loudly, “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Harry smiled weakly, but before he could drown in his nervous thoughts, Hermione interrupted with whispered words, “You’ll do great in any house, Harry.”

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward, put on the hat – which fell right down her eyes – and a moment passed. 

“HUFFLEPUFF,” the hat announced.

The table on the right of the hall cheered and clapped as Hannah went to join them at the Hufflepuff table.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF,” the hat announced again, and the girl joined the table. 

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table second from the left clapped and welcomed the boy. This went on in a similar manner with “Brocklehurst, Mandy” going to Ravenclaw, followed by “Brown, Lavender” as the first Gryffindor. “Bulstrode, Millicent” was the first to be sorted into Slytherin, and Harry and Hermione were taken aback by Ron’s slight sneer.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin” was sorted into Hufflepuff and “Finnigan, Seamus” into Gryffindor. As the boy, Seamus, made his way to the Gryffindor table, Professor McGonagall called the next name on the list. 

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand nervously before letting go and stepping forward. She walked towards the stool calmly and felt the hat placed gently on her head. The last thing she saw was the brilliant green eyes of Harry Potter before the hat’s rim fell down past her eyes, obscuring her vision.

“ _ Hmm _ ,” a voice said in her ear, “ _ What a charming you lady? Ah, I am speaking to you in your mind. No, others can’t hear what I say.” _

‘Are you reading my mind?’ Hermione thought.

“ _ Clever girl. But don’t worry it’s all confidential. Hogwarts magic. No one will know you’re the Dagworth-Granger heir unless you wish them to.” _

‘Can anyone just read my mind?’

“ _ Of course not, dear girl. A very skilled witch or wizard can read minds, but only if eye contact is maintained. The headmaster is a prime example. You would do well in Ravenclaw with that mind of yours. _ ”

‘Like I told Harry, there are more important things than books and cleverness.’

“ _ Ah, and there is that loyalty. Helga Hufflepuff would be proud to have you in her house. And what is more important to you?” _

‘Making a difference. Being accepted. Being the best version of myself,” Hermione thought strongly, “Please put me in the place where I can fully develop and reach my potential.”

“ _ There’s only one place for that…” _ the Sorting Hat said, “ _ better be... _ SLYTHERIN!”

  
  


Harry watched his friend, Hermione, walk up the stool to get sorted. Hermione was the first friend he made in the Wizarding World. He had met her at the bookstore at Diagon Alley, where she helped him find some books and recommended some more books to him. If she didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have known she was a muggleborn witch, born and raised in the muggle world. 

If one thing Harry could be certain of, is that Hermione was the nicest and kindest and most giving person he knows. She helped him without knowing who he is – the shopkeeper at Flourish and Blotts told him how she was often there helping people, regardless of who they were. 

She was,  _ is _ , his friend. His first friend.

She sought him out on the train. Defended him and evaded questions, changing the subject when she could see he wasn’t comfortable. She paid for the treats from the cart and didn’t seem to expect anything back. She reassured him that she would always be his friend, regardless where he went. 

So when the hat announced her house loudly and the hall fell silent. And when Ron sneered beside him, hissing, “Should have known she’s a filthy snake.”

And no one clapped for her. Not even her own house. 

Harry, in spite of them all, clapped loudly for his friend who beamed right back at him. 

Hermione took off the hat and placed it on the stool. Harry was the only one clapping, but soon, more students joined him in his clapping and she smiled at him brightly, gratefully. She made her way to the Slytherin table calmly with all the poise and grace she could muster and sat down beside Millicent Bulstrode. 

“Well met, Heiress Bulstrode,” Hermione greeted politely as she sat, nodding in greeting to other students.

The older students seemed to nod in approval. 

The sorting continued and soon the Slytherin table was joined by Nott and Parkinson, both of whom decided to sit on the other side by Crabbe, Goyle and Greengrass. They were followed by Malfoy who, to the shock of everyone there, slid onto the seat next to Hermione. 

“Heir Malfoy,” she said airily.

“M’lady,” he greeted with a smirk. 

They returned their attention to the sorting ceremony as the rest of the house murmured and whispered among themselves. That is, until Professor McGonagall announced Harry’s name, “Potter, Harry!”

Silence settled upon the Slytherins and they watched with keen, sharp eyes as Harry’s head disappeared under the brim of the hat. A minute passed. And then another. And then another. 

The hat then announced, “SLYTHERIN!”

And the hall broke out in surprised whispers and Hermione stood from her seat, clapping loudly. Harry’s eyes immediately met hers and she smiled encouragingly at him, as he made his way towards her slowly. Soon she was joined by the Weasley twins in her clapping, then Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin house – though none were as enthusiastic as her. Once he reached the table, Hermione engulfed him in a quick hug and offered him the seat between herself and Malfoy. 

The boys nodded politely at each other. 

“You alright, Harry?” Hermione asked worriedly. 

“Yeah.” he nodded and squeezed her hand. 

The rest of the sorting went smoothly though without much notice by the majority of the people as  _ the  _ Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin – perhaps the biggest news to hit the Wizarding public since the fall of Voldemort. The last student to be sorted was “Zabini, Blaise” who made Slytherin. 

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Albus Dumbledore got to his feet then, beaming at the students with his arms wide open. He sat on a golden chair that Hermione likened to a throne, and his silver hair shone brightly. 

“Welcome,” he said, “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

Food appeared on the table as Hermione pondered the words and Harry frowned. “Is– is he mad?”

An older student snorted. 

“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes brightened. “Oh, he’s a genius.”

“What?” All the Slytherins around them chimed. One even went so far to say, “You’re crazy.”

Hermione’s cheeks turned red as she tried to explain herself, “Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweak. They’re four words that describe the  _ opposite _ of each house, or well, I suppose they could also describe the houses. That’s not the point though.”

At that point, most of the Slytherins had lost all interest in listening to what she had to say. Hermione added some food to her plate before she continued. 

“He’s saying how sad it is that we’ve been divided and put into houses where we will view other houses as less than. For example, Ravenclaws will see everyone outside their house as nitwits. And it’s a shame, because in order to be an all rounded witch or wizard you need to have characteristics of each house. You can’t be a good Slytherin if you’re not smart enough to be cunning or smart enough to meet your ambitions, and so you must also be hardworking to achieve what you’ve set out to do. You also have to be brave enough to take chances in order to be successful.”

Those who listened remained contemplative as they thought her words over seriously. Sitting by Harry and Malloy made Hermione a person worth listening to, in the Slytherin’s opinion, and no Slytherin was dumb enough to squander and overlook that connection so early on. Well, except one young and naive first year. Pansy Parkinson snorted from her place at the table, “You must be mad too, if you really believe that.”

“Believe what you will,” Hermione said lightly before turning to Harry, and essentially, asking for privacy. “You must be awfully hungry.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

“What did the Sorting Hat say to you?” 

“Plenty of courage, not a bad mind and a thirst to prove myself. Said that Slytherin will help me on the way to greatness. You?”

“It told me I’d do well in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too, but I asked the hat to put me where I can achieve my full potential.” Hermione told him before leaning in to whisper, “The hat also told me it’s possible for great wizards and witches to read our minds. The headmaster can read our mind if we make eye contact.”

“Do we know if only the headmaster can do that?” he whispered back, “And is there a way to stop him from reading our mind?”

Hermione shrugged, “Don’t make eye contact. We can look up other methods later or ask.”

“What are you whispering about?” Malfoy asked from beside them. 

“Heir Malfoy–”

“Call me Draco.”

“Draco, can Wizards read minds like the Sorting Hat?” Hermione asked, her voice soft. 

“It takes skill, but it's called _ Legilimency _ ,” he says.

“I see,” Hermione said, “It’s illegal, especially on minors, but hard to prove.”

Draco smirked, “At least you know something.”

“That’s great,” Harry muttered, “Doesn’t stop them from actually reading my mind though. Not making eye contact isn’t exactly fool-proof.”

“ _ Occlumency _ ,” Draco muttered under his breath.

Hermione smiled at him gratefully before Draco looked away. Hermione gave Harry’s hand a squeeze, and she turned to speak to Milicent Bulstrode who was listening in on Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis’ conversation. They spoke of their hopes for their studies and the next few years at Hogwarts, with Hermione expressing her desire to beat previous exam records and Milicent told Hermione of her family business in kneazle breeding. 

“The Bulstrodes are famous for their Kneazels,” commented Daphne Greengrass, “They are of the highest quality. Not a very lucrative business though, I’m afraid.”

“And what does your family do, Heiress Greengrass?” 

Daphne sniffed, “We run the apothecary at Diagon Alley, with most of the plants taken from our greenhouses.”

“What about you, Miss Davis?” 

“My dad’s a solicitor in Edinburgh,” Davis said and then the discussion turned into one about their homes. From what she could tell, Davis was a half-blood and was able to relate to her upbringing the most. They were in the midst of telling her about the witches wire and witch weekly, and other forms of entertainment the wizarding world had to offer, when a ghost wrapped in chains and splattered with silvery blood appeared in the middle of the table. 

“Merlin, Morgana, and Circe,” Daphne Greengrass exclaimed, hands at her chest. 

“Welcome to the House of Slytherin. Baron Thaddeus Wilkes, at your service. The resident Slytherin ghost,” the ghost introduced himself monotonously.

“Wicked,” Harry murmured beside her.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Baron Wilkes, how did you come about to...join the other side?”

“None of your business.”

“My father told me all about you,” Draco said, “You were the last of the Noble House of Wilkes.”

The ghost sneered, “I was.”

The first years were startled by the horrifying sneer and kept quiet as the ghost left them, though Hermione was brimming with questions. A prefect shook her head, “That’s the Bloody Baron. You’ll make life easier for yourself if you avoid him. Not much of a conversationalist, that one, the other ghosts are more willing to talk.”

Soon the food was replaced with all kinds of desserts. Hermione loaded her plate with a generous amount of pudding, well aware that she had a bit too many already that afternoon. Harry had no such reservations as she watched him pile his plate with treats. She raised her brows at him only to receive a slight blush from the boy who continued to feast. 

Hermione continued to speak with the other Slytherin girls when Harry suddenly jumped beside her, “Ouch!”

“Are you alright, Harry?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he said, avoiding her questioning gaze. “Who’s that teacher beside Professor Quirrell?”

“That’s Professor Snape,” Draco replied, “He’s my godfather and the head of Slytherin. Why? How’d you know about Professor Quirrell anyway.”

Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice, “Met him at the Leaky.”

“Is there something wrong, Harry?”

Harry gave her a smile, “I’m fine, Hermione. We can talk about it later.”

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. 

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we’re all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the ground is forbidden to all pupils, and a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

“I’ve also been asked by the caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you all that no magic is to be used between classes in the corridors.”

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, and anyone interested in playing for their house should contact Madam Hooch.”

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Hermione felt a chill seep into her bones as the Slytherins looked at one another. Harry had chuckled, and seemed to think it was a joke, until he looked around and saw how serious and somber everyone looked. “He’s not serious?”

“Told you he’s mad,” the prefect from earlier said. “Doubt the wizard would joke about something like death though.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song,” cried Dumbledore. He gave a flick of his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, twisting itself in the air to form snake-like words. “Everyone pick their favourite tune!” 

The resulting sound sounded like it came from a nightmare. 

“Is it always like this?” Hermione asked a prefect.

“Yup.”

The Slytherins all sang in a single tune, much to Hermione’s relief, and in the end only the Weasley twins were left singing to a slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they finished, he was one of those who clapped the loudest. 

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes, “A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Slytherin first years followed the prefects through the crowds, out of the Great Hall and down the marble staircases. They went down lower and lower into the grounds of the castle. Hermione looked around, amazed by the sheer size of the castle and the number of moving portraits around as they navigated the maze-like structure of the building. They passed through many hidden doorways and winding staircases. 

Finally, they reached the end of a hallway. They stood in front of a bare stretch of stone and the prefect spoke, “Noblesse oblige.”

The stones started to move and pull away, and Hermione noticed they looked like snakes. They stepped past the newly parted archway and she gasped at the magnificence of the common room. 

The space was large, probably larger than her home combined. The ceiling hung high above them in a dome like manner and multiple flickering lights illuminated the space. There were three fireplaces – one at the end, and one at each side – with multiple green-velvet sofas and chairs. In some places, the walls held bookshelves and there were desks with table lamps dotted around. It was, simply put, spectacular.

“Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room,” the Prefect, Hestia Killburn, said, “As you heard, the password is noblesse oblige. The common room, as the place you will probably spend most of your time in, is equipped with everything you may need. The corridor that you see on your left leads to the common room toilets and a small kitchen. The house elves – Mopsy and Mipsy – reside there. The corridor on your right leads to some study rooms and potions labs. You may book any of the rooms by signing your name on the sheets at the selected time slot of your preference, available at the door of each room. Once signed, your name cannot be erased, but you cannot sign your name more than five times each week.”

Perseus Plunkett, another prefect, led them to the end of the common room and in front of the largest fireplace, “The rooms are on this side of the common room. Girls to the right corridor, boys to the left corridor. First years are on this floor, and at the end of the hallway the stairs lead down to the rooms of other years. Have I been clear?”

They nodded. 

“Unlike other houses, Slytherins respect privacy and as such we are the only house with individual rooms. Your room will have your name written on it and it is warded so that only you, or anyone you invite, may enter. Each room has a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and chair. You are free to decorate it as you will. Toilets are by the stairs at the end of the hallway which you have to share with your year mates, but there are individual stalls and enough space for all of you to bathe at the same time and more.”

“ _ Tempus,”  _ he said, and the time read 21:00, “You are now free to explore your own rooms and the Slytherin Common Room. We will meet back here at 21:30 for a house meeting with Professor Snape. Dismissed.”

The girls split from the boys and walked down their corridor. The first room had an elaborate golden scripted plate which read, “Bulstrode, Millicent”. Hermione’s room was third along the corridor, between Tracy and Daphne. Her door glowed when she touched it, as though in recognition, and she pushed the heavy door open.

On the opposite side of the door was a large floor to ceiling window overlooking the lake. It was dark and murky at the moment, but Hermione was sure it would be spectacular in the morning. On either side of the window were long heavy green-velvet curtains with silver accents. The bed was at the center of the room, the headboard propped against the right wall. It was probably king-sized and fitted with silken sheets. At the foot of the bed was her trunk, and further along, propped against the left wall was a long oaken desk and table lamp. By the door, to her right, was a wardrobe, mirror and a simple folding screen. 

She stepped in and looked around, touching everything as she went, saving the bed for last. When she reached it, she couldn’t help but flop onto the bed and she bounced upon the mattress once or twice. This was to be her home for the next seven years. 

A knock from the door pulled her out of her thoughts and she went to open it. Standing outside was Daphne, Tracey and Milicent. Daphne said, “We’re going to look at the bathroom if you’d like to come with us.”

Hermione agreed. 

“Should we ask Pansy?” Milicent asked. They knocked on the girl’s door and she agreed to join after some hesitation and staring. 

They pushed the door open to reveal a bathroom that looked like it came out of a picture book on Roman  _ thermae _ . Shower stalls and toilets lined the wall on the left. A long marbled heated pool was at the centre of the room decorated with columns, and facing the lake were washbasins, mirrors and dressing tables. 

“We can get dressed for balls here together,” Tracey said excitedly. 

“They don’t  _ do _ balls anymore, Tracey,” Daphne snorted, “Not since Dumbledore at least.”

“What?!”

“Samahian Ball, Yule Ball, Beltane Ball,” Daphne listed, “They don’t exist anymore, but we Slytherins hold a party in the common room, I heard. But it’s nothing as grand or great.”

“Why did he get rid of it?” Hermione cried. 

“It’s because of muggleborns,” Pansy said bitterly, “Other muggleborns. They find our traditions barbaric so Hallows Eve became Halloween. Yule became Christmas. Beltane became Easter. Dumbledore is all for forgetting tradition and bringing muggle traditions into our world. He’s a ‘light’ wizard.”

Daphne hummed, “It wasn’t always like this. There was a time before when muggleborns were fostered by pureblood families. They were essentially adopted and included into the family magics. But many muggleborns betrayed their adopted families and shared family secrets, or would scorn their families for being barbaric. In the worst cases, they sold their foster family to muggle authorities at the time to be burnt at the stake.”

They were silent and Hermione’s face was struck with horror. “That’s awful. I-I don’t. A- but, why?”

The other girls shrugged. 

Pansy flicked her wrist revealing her wand as she casted  _ tempus _ , “We should head back out. There’s only five more minutes left.”

Together they huddled out of the room, down the corridor and out into the common room. The boys were already sitting by the large fireplace, speaking with the prefects. When Harry spotted her, he waved and she went to join him. 

“Did you see our rooms, Hermione?” he said excitedly, “They’re huge! And that bathroom! The rest of the boys and I are going for a dip later.”

He looked like an eager puppy and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Harry. I think I might go for a dip later too.”

“I don’t quite like the enchanted mirrors though,” he huffed, “It insulted my hair. Said I ought to do something about it like I haven’t tried already.”

The door to the Slytherin Common Room opened again, and the room fell silent as Professor Snape walked in. His black robes billowed behind him as he stalked to the centre of the room and paused. He looked around, scanned the common room and finished with his gaze upon the gathered first years. 

“Welcome to Slytherin, and for the rest of my snakes, welcome back,” he started softly, “You are here because Salazar Slytherin sees the potential in you to achieve greatness. Here at Slytherin, you treat your house as family and you take care of each other. Disputes remain in the house, and outside these walls you portray yourselves as one united unit.”

“First years,” he looked at them sharply, “You will be assigned a sixth year mentor over the first term to help you navigate the castle, your classes, and instruct you on our House rules. They will be here, in the common room, at eight in the morning to greet you.”

“Tomorrow, all of you will receive your schedules at breakfast as well as a time slot for a health check up with Madam Pomfrey. I will be there and you will attend, lest you wish to be summoned and dragged to the infirmary by your ears.”

“As you heard, Quidditch trials begin next week. First years may participate. I expect us to win again this year,” he paused here to look around again, “In fact, I expect the house cup to remain within Slytherin and you will all achieve my expectations, I hope.”

“If you have any questions, my office is available at all hours,” he finished, “I will now leave you all in the capable hands of Miss Gemma Farley.”

Professor Snape turned and stormed out the common room, as an older girl stepped out to address the gathered crowd. “Hello and welcome. As Professor Snape said, I’m Gemma Farley and the seventh year prefect for Slytherin as well as head girl this year. We’ll begin this meeting with the first year’s introducing themselves.”

The gathered house turned to look at them. 

“Draco Malfoy. Pureblood,” Draco was the first to step out and say, “Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy.”

“Daphne Greengrass,” Daphne said, “Heiress to the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass.”

“Theodore Nott. Heir to the Noble House of Nott.”

“Blaise Zabini. Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Zabini.”

“Pansy Parkinson of the Ancient and Noble House of Parkinson.”

“Tracey Davis. Half-blood. House of Wellbeloved.”

“Vincent Crabbe, Heir to the Noble House of Crabbe.”

“Gregory Goyle, Heir to the Noble House of Goyle.”

Draco nudged Harry, and Harry stepped forward, “Er – Harry Potter. Half-blood. Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter?”

“The Potters are a Most Ancient and Noble House,” someone said, “Did no one teach you this?”

“No,” Harry said, cheeks turning red, turning to Hermione for help. 

Before murmurs could break out and Harry could faint from embarrassment, Hermione stepped forward and said, “Hermione Granger. Muggle-born. Heiress to the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger.”

  
  


As soon as she said that, the Slytherin common room broke into a cacophony of noise. Everyone was speaking to her at once and she couldn’t hear what was said, or who asked what. Some of her year mates were pulling at her and Harry looked at her confused. She should have known this would happen, but she didn’t want to feel, well, left out.

“SILENCE!”

It was Gemma Farley. She had her wand in her hand as she screamed for attention. The room immediately fell into silence and they were watching Hermione. She felt their stares acutely as a shiver went down her neck. 

“Now, Hermione,” the prefect said, “Please explain.”

“I’m a muggleborn. Both my parents are muggles who grew up in the muggle world. My grandparents are muggles,” she started nervously, “When we found out I was a witch, we went to Gringotts for an inheritance test and it showed that I’m the heir to the Noble House of Dagworth-Granger.”

“I claimed heirship,” she said, showing them her ring, “and went down to the vaults to speak to the portraits. My...ancestors had a working theory since the beginning that muggle-borns are simply descendants from squib lines, and my...existence...has proved it. But I am muggleborn through and through.”

“I see,” Farley said. 

“No one except the goblins and perhaps some ministry staff know that I have claimed heirship, so I hope to ask for everyone’s discretion as much as possible.”

“Of course. I’m sure we all need time to process this, and we are prevented from speaking of house business without the heir or lord’s permission, or the news must be public knowledge. The consequence of spreading house information to those not already in the know will be judged by magic as I’m sure you all know,” Farley concluded. “In other news, we will be meeting on the first of each month for monthly house meetings. You will also remember to respect your house members, regardless of anything. They are your equals at your time in Hogwarts. Bullying is not tolerated, especially in-house bullying, but rivalries are expected and tolerated. Weekly tutoring sessions for first years are on Monday evenings in the common room, Tuesday for second years, and Thursday for third years. Fourth years and fifth years have group study sessions on Wednesday, while sixth and seventh years will have study sessions on Friday. You are not obligated to attend but these sessions are here for your benefit.”

“More details will be posted on the bulletin,” Farley gestured to a board by the entrance of the common room, “Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, please set quidditch practices around this schedule. All clubs will begin recruitment after quidditch trials and I highly suggest you participate in at least one club, but no more than two.”

“If there’s anything to add, please speak up now,” Farley said. 

“The third floor corridor,” someone called out, “do we know what’s going on?”

There were whispers when Farley answered, “No, we don’t. Dumbledore hasn’t informed any of the prefects and Professor Snape is under the teacher’s oath of secrecy to the headmaster. We’ll organise a volunteer party to venture to the corridor and figure out what the problem is. If you’d like to volunteer, I’ll have a sign up sheet up on the bulletin tomorrow. Fifth years and above only. Anything else?”

Her question was met with silence. Farley nodded, “Alright. Remember, if you break the rules, don’t get caught. Sixth years stay behind. The rest of you, dismissed and good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been daydreaming about being a Slytherin a lot (hehe~) and this is just how I imagine it to be. Pls let me know what you think of my take on the Slytherins and the house in general! I hope its interesting and you'll keep reading!
> 
> Now that I've posted the first three chapters, I'll be posting chapter 4 next week so I have time to write more and post consistently! I will also try to read and respond to every comment now, so please bear with me if I'm slow to respond :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and yes, I made Hermione eurasian. ^-^ 
> 
> Anyway, please follow and comment! I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far. First chapter is shorter compared to the other chapters I've written so please stay tuned for the next chapter. Next few uploads will be:
> 
> Chapter 2 - Tomorrow  
> Chapter 3 – Saturday  
> Chapter 4 - Saturday, Feb 6th  
> Chapter 5 - Saturday, Feb 13th
> 
> So on and so forth. I hope to be able to keep to this schedule and will write an update if I can't make it. Once again, thank you for reading and I'll see you tomorrow!


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